


Sir Gwaine Wins a Match But Loses His Heart

by alba17



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-08
Updated: 2011-06-08
Packaged: 2017-10-20 06:07:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/209576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alba17/pseuds/alba17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur and Gwen’s wedding is the biggest party of the year and Merlin’s moping is putting Gwaine off his game. Something has to be done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sir Gwaine Wins a Match But Loses His Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to planejane and slightlytookish for the beta. Written for gwaine_quest for this prompt: Merlin/Gwaine: Arthur has married Guinevere. Merlin looks for comfort with someone who knows him for who he really is.

“You okay?” Gwaine grabs Merlin’s arm. Merlin’s a tad flushed and he avoids Gwaine’s gaze. Arthur and Gwen have just left the Great Hall after the marriage ceremony and the many celebrants are following them to the banquet hall. There’s an air of excitement, a heady buzz of anticipation flowing through the crowd. This is the biggest social event of the season in Camelot and the banquet promises a bounty of delicious food and amusing diversions. The supplies have been laden in for weeks, the cooks have been working their arses off and everybody’s set for a serious good time.

During the ceremony, Gwaine’s eyes found Merlin right away – the feathers of his ridiculous hat bobbing above the heads of the other servants was a dead giveaway. You couldn’t miss Merlin’s restless fidgeting, the constant twitching of his shoulders and studying of his fingers. He looked everywhere but at Arthur and Gwen at the head of the hall. When Arthur and Gwen said their vows – Gwen’s voice quivering and Arthur’s hand shaking as he slid the ring on her finger - Merlin abruptly focused on the ceremony and became very still. As things proceeded, Merlin’s face settled into a stony frown and so it remained.

This just wouldn’t do. Gwaine has plans for this banquet. Important plans, like beating Leon in their ongoing competition to see who can drink more in the span of fifteen minutes. Leon is twice his size, but he shouldn’t be able to drink Gwaine under the table, damn it. That honour should belong to roughly no one; some things are a matter of pride. But here was Merlin distracting him with all his sad faces. Arthur’s wedding has Merlin in a funk, and it’s seriously putting Gwaine off his game. The way his chest clenches when he sees Merlin’s downcast eyes has nothing to do with it. Absolutely nothing.

Merlin doesn’t seem to hear him. “Are you okay, Merlin?” Gwaine shakes his arm to get his attention.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be okay? It’s a joyful day. My two best friends are getting married,” Merlin says. He stares fixedly off into the distance.

“Right. Yes, of course. I can see you’re very happy for them,” Gwaine murmurs.

The approaching smells of roasted meat are making Gwaine’s mouth water and he can practically taste the ale from here. He’s got to get Merlin sorted or he just won’t be able to enjoy himself. The one thing guaranteed to bring down Gwaine’s mood is seeing Merlin miserable. Bloody Arthur, always getting in the way of Gwaine’s good time.

“I heard they’re having pheasant. That’s one of your favourites, isn’t it?” Merlin’s thin frame belied his amazing capacity for shoving food down his gullet. Sometimes Gwaine just sat and watched him eat for the pure entertainment value.

“Pheasant, yeah, I do like that,” Merlin says. But he’s still distracted, for once not enthused by the thought of eating his favourite food.

Gwaine circles an arm around Merlin’s shoulders. “Come on, man, cheer up. You look down. We’ll share a tankard of mead, yeah?”

Merlin hunches his shoulders, shirking off the arm. “Okay,” he says slowly, as if the word is dragged from him.

“Buck up.” Gwaine chucks him under the chin, not at all noticing how the slight watery cast of Merlin’s eyes brings up their indigo hue. “It’s not that bad. You’ll still be Arthur’s right-hand man. It’s not like he’s going to take Gwen hunting, although she’s probably better at it than you.”

Merlin socks him in the arm and his cheeks flame. “It’s not that.”

“No? What is it then?” Gwaine genuinely wants to know because if it’s one thing he doesn’t get, it’s Merlin’s outsized crush on Arthur Pendragon. He needs to get over it and maybe Gwaine can help.

Merlin just looks at him with those ridiculously pretty blue eyes. Really, why Merlin doesn’t have the entire staff of maidservants knocking on his door at all hours, Gwaine will never know. “I’ve got some duties to attend to, _Sir_ Gwaine. And you’d better get back to the knights. They’ll wonder what’s keeping you.”

Gwaine lays a hand lightly on the curve of Merlin’s pale neck where it joins his shoulder. “No, they won’t.” Merlin’s gaze skitters away but comes back to Gwaine as if pulled by a magnet. Under its weight, Gwaine’s heart rate ratchets up. If he can just get Merlin over this hump, maybe…well, he tries not to think too hard about things he might hope for from Merlin. Unable to resist, he moves his thumb back and forth over the smooth skin, comforting. He wills Merlin to continue looking at him, his eyes heavy and expectant. The moment stretches out thickly, then Merlin tilts his head into Gwaine’s touch.

A warm burst of affection floods Gwaine’s chest. “They know I’m with you.” He sees no reason to deny it. All the knights know that Gwaine has a special feeling for Merlin. “Don’t worry. It’s all going to be okay. I promise.” He doesn’t really know what Merlin expects from Arthur, or what he might want from Gwaine, but whatever it is, he feels certain that he wants to give it to him. The words of comfort flow easily.

Merlin searches Gwaine’s face and seems to find reassurance. He presses his lips together, nodding. “Okay,” he says, blowing out a breath. “I’d better get to work. Arthur will be wondering where I am.”

Arthur again. If he can just get Merlin’s mind off the blasted man… Of course, Merlin has a job to do; Gwaine has to let him go. But not quite yet. Gwaine slides his hand up Merlin’s neck and into the hair at the base of his skull, caressing it just for a moment. Merlin’s hair is soft, freshly washed for the special day, curling at the ends. It smells of lavender and Gwaine wants nothing more than to bury his face in it and just breathe him in. “You know where to find me.” He nods to where the knights sit, already in their cups it seems, their loud laughter ringing through the hall. He’d been so looking forward to carousing with them, but now his enthusiasm has been dampened. He pulls his hand away and Merlin exhales a sigh, leaning in towards Gwaine as if chasing his touch.

That little movement – it’s such an insignificant thing. But it makes Gwaine’s gut twist with want and now all he can think about is touching Merlin in much more intimate places. They’ve always been physically at ease with one another, the casual touch a normal part of their give and take - but never as more than friends. Gwaine isn’t stupid, he can see how Merlin looks at Arthur, like he’s heartsick, and it’s never felt right to try to take things to another level. But he’s always wondered about it.

Merlin starts to turn away, his face pensive. He looks back over his shoulder at Gwaine, who hasn’t moved, distracted by the realisation that he’s more than a little aroused. “So I’ll see you later, yeah?” Merlin’s eyebrows angle up, questioning, insecurity threading through his tone. In the badly fitting formal wear, he looks so young and vulnerable; Gwaine clamps down on the overwhelming need to wrap his arms around him and make everything all right, always.

“You bet,” Gwaine says over a sudden knot in his throat, making a salute with a hand to his forehead.

Before scurrying off to attend to Arthur at the head table, Merlin flashes him a blinding smile that threatens to make Gwaine’s heart stop completely. Gwaine shakes his head and grins. Who’s he kidding? Merlin’s got him, heart and soul.

 

The banquet has been going on for quite awhile when Gwaine decides he can’t take it anymore. He stalks through the crowd of revelers, weaving only a little. (Sure, Lady Esmeralda squawks and glares at him when he tromps on her delicate toes, but the glare melts into a smile when Gwaine flicks his hair out of his face and gives her a sly grin. The hair, it never fails.) Merlin has but a moment to lose his hangdog expression and gape at him before Gwaine’s hauling him by the back of his tight, formal collar down a dim hallway, tossing commands at poor Godfried to attend to Arthur while Merlin’s on break.

Merlin had seemed fine when he ran off to perform his duties, leaving Gwaine free to engage in his drinking bout with Leon (he won again, the freakishly tall brute). But when Gwaine snuck a look at Merlin - just keeping an eye on him, making sure he was okay, that’s all - Merlin looked dour and sad again. He was but a few feet away from the sight of Arthur and Gwen sharing devoted, loving looks all night long and it was clearly getting to him. When Gwaine finally caught his eye, Merlin could barely be bothered to acknowledge him, his shoulders slumped and his face pulled into a frown.

Immediately Gwaine’s mood plummets and the ale loses its flavour. It’s the biggest party of the year and losing his taste for drink is just not on - at all. He has got to get Merlin to stop this silly pining, or whatever it is he’s doing. Sodding Prince Arthur is going to get a good whacking at the next practice, that’s for sure.

Stumbling out of the banquet hall with Merlin in tow, he has no plan other than getting Merlin out of Arthur’s immediate vicinity. Spying a rarely used storeroom that he discovered a few months ago with Percival, he kicks open the door. Merlin’s flustered blubbing comes to a halt when Gwaine shoves him on top of a pile of dusty old carpets.

“Ow!” Merlin yelps, rubbing his elbow where it hits the stone wall. “Why d’you do that? Arthur will be wanting me.” He adjusts his formal Pendragon uniform with a firm tug and glares at Gwaine.

“Godfried’s got him. It’s not a problem. Sorry to say, but Arthur won’t even notice you’re gone. Not tonight.”

From the dejected look on Merlin’s face, that’s exactly the problem.

“You said you’d see me later, right? It’s later.” Gwaine holds out his hands as if to say, ‘ta-da, here I am!’ “Don’t worry about Arthur, really,” he says more softly. “Kind of hot in there, too many people. Just take a break and relax for a bit.”

“Okay.” Merlin says and some stiffness does seem to leave his shoulders. “It was a little, um, warm.” He sighs and sinks into the pile of carpets. “Arthur seems happy. So does Gwen.”

Gwaine settles in closer. If his thigh presses against Merlin’s, that’s only to provide greater reassurance. It has nothing to do with the hard length of muscle making Gwaine feel all tingly. “Merlin. Don’t you want Arthur and Gwen to be happy?”

Merlin looks sideways at him. “Is that a trick question?”

“No, silly.” He chuckles and puts an arm around Merlin’s shoulders, squeezing. “We’re friends, right?”

Merlin nods, then he sniffles and looks down in his lap.

“Well, a word of advice. Sometimes you have to let go.” He strokes Merlin’s arm, restraining himself from pulling Merlin into his lap and nuzzling his long, fine neck. He’s here to help Merlin, that’s all.

Merlin rolls his eyes, but his weight settles deeper into Gwaine’s arm, the tip of his hat’s feather ticking Gwaine’s cheek. “I guess you’re right. It’s just…I don’t know.” He leans his head on Gwaine’s shoulder, soft hair skirting his face, and Gwaine’s breath catches just a bit at the tender gesture. “It’s just somehow not how I pictured things. I mean, I’m happy for them, really I am, but you know, before it was just Arthur and me, we spent a lot of time alone together, and now it will be, well, different.” Merlin’s silent for a moment. “It’s hard for me to see him like that…with Gwen,” he rasps, clearly overcome with emotion.

Gwaine sighs. Sometimes Merlin seems so young and he has to remind himself that Merlin has seen far less of the world than he has. He can’t stand seeing Merlin miserable – over Arthur, of all people - and he vows to help him get over this.

He pulls Merlin’s hand into his lap, half expecting Merlin to snatch it away. Instead, he settles farther into the curve of Gwaine’s arm and Gwaine happily wraps it tighter around him. “I know. But things can’t stay the same forever. You can’t be everything to Arthur. He’s the prince, he’ll probably be the king soon, and he has certain responsibilities, expectations he has to fulfill.” He strokes his thumb along the side of Merlin’s palm. “And Gwen will make a fine queen; she’s always had a regal bearing.” She’s come a long way since she was the pretty maidservant who’d caught his eye on his first day in Camelot. He threads his fingers through Merlin’s long and elegant ones. “You know she will. And the two of them together are a fine match. They’ll be good for the kingdom.”

Merlin lifts his head to look at Gwaine. “Since when do you care about what’s good for Camelot?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Since becoming one of its knights, dolthead.” A knight - it did take some getting used to. Whenever he has a moment of regret, he remembers how Merlin looked at him when Arthur touched the sword to his shoulders, like Gwaine made the sun shine and the waves come to shore. He’d do anything to see that look again. It spurs him on whenever he fights in a tourney or a melee. “King Arthur and Queen Guinevere. It has a certain ring, don’t you think?”

Merlin harrumphs. “Always be a prat, if you ask me, no matter how high and mighty he gets.”

Gwaine laughs. “Too true. But enough about them, eh?” Gwaine breathes in the lavender scent from his hair, his nose close to outright nuzzling now. “Right now it’s just you and me.” If he can just get Merlin’s mind off of Arthur… He unwinds their fingers and resumes his stroking of Merlin’s hand, venturing down to the tender skin of his inner wrist. Just a soothing touch, nothing more.

The feather brushes his nose and he blows it out of his face. “I can’t believe he made you wear that.”

“He said everybody had to.”

“Uh-huh. I didn’t see anybody else wearing a hat like that.”

Merlin thinks a moment. “Oh god. You’re right.” He scowls, swipes the hat off and throws it on the floor. “Tosser. I hate that flipping thing.”

Gwaine chuckles. “It’s kind of cute though. Even if it makes you look like you’re fifteen.”

“Gwaine!” Merlin mocks outrage and sneaks a hand under Gwaine’s armpit to tickle him. Gwaine shrinks back, giggling, tightening his arms against his sides to prevent Merlin from getting access.

“No! No! You know I’m ticklish. Stop!” He shimmies backward to get away and falls off the pile of carpets onto his arse with a thwump. That sets off a fresh wave of laughter. “Ow! Merlin,” he glowers dramatically, playing it up.

“You discovered my secret weapon,” Merlin says, “to lay low the great knight. Beware the hands!” He wiggles them at Gwaine menacingly and makes a feint for Gwaine’s waist, catching his clothing briefly before it slips out of his hands. He attempts to growl but it sounds more like a pig somehow and they break out in giggles again. Merlin clutches his stomach, he’s laughing so hard.

After a moment, their laughter dies off as they try to catch a breath, Gwaine still prostrate on the ground and Merlin hovering above him. There’s a pause; the air is thick with dust motes roused by their tussling. Then Gwaine kicks Merlin in the ankle. He snickers as Merlin loses his balance and falls with a grunt on top of him in a tangle of arms and legs.

“That’s playing dirty,” Merlin manages to say amidst the flailing limbs.

“I never claimed to be a gentleman, Merlin,” Gwaine says, abruptly aware of Merlin’s body draped over his, elegant limbs twined around Gwaine’s body like vines. Merlin’s face is mere inches away and their chests press together, Merlin’s weight pleasantly heavy on top of him.

Neither says anything, the only sound the huff of their breaths, mingling close and warm. Gwaine’s pulse rushes in his ears and he stares at Merlin’s bud-pink lips, full and parted, begging to be bitten, if only Merlin would let him. From the look in Merlin’s eyes, that might actually be possible. They’re glued to Gwaine, flicking from his mouth to his eyes to his hair, and his hand curls around Gwaine’s shoulder with sudden urgency.

There’s a change in Merlin’s expression, like sand shifting under the waves. A different light is in his eyes, something Gwaine hasn’t seen before, hungry and needy. He’s looking at Gwaine like he’s a delectable perfectly ripe peach he just picked off the tree.

Gwaine can’t seem to look away. He feels lightheaded, dizzy with something that feels a lot like joy. A smile tugs at his mouth because this…this is something he didn’t even know he wanted, not really. But now that Arthur’s married, perhaps things are different. He’s got Merlin right here _in his arms,_ plastered against him and looking like _that_ ,with cheeks aglow against the rich black of his hair, deep blue eyes shining bright and beautiful and true, and he knows he wants this more than anything. If becoming a knight and losing his independence brought him Merlin, like this, it was worth it.

He holds Merlin closer, so he can feel all of Merlin pressed against him, his chest, his stomach, his hips. Merlin’s breath hitches and his eyelids fall, just a fraction, but enough to give him a sultry air that’s almost impossible to resist. His mouth draws nearer.

“This is nice,” Gwaine murmurs, attention drawn by the plump bow of Merlin’s lower lip.”Yeah?” He’s almost sure, but he wants to hear Merlin say it’s okay. He doesn’t want to screw this up. He’s hard now, it’s pressed tight against Merlin’s belly; surely it must be obvious. If Merlin were bothered, he’d move away, wouldn’t he?

“A bit dusty, but...” Merlin grins a little, sweet. “Yeah, it’s nice.” His voice is low, barely a murmur, and he grows serious again, gaze fixed on Gwaine’s mouth. He settles further into Gwaine, a slight rock to his hips making Gwaine fully aware that Merlin’s equally aroused.

No, Merlin’s not going anywhere. Something unclenches in Gwaine and his hands trace the tight curve of Merlin’s arse, spreading broadly to cup the swell of each cheek. He answers the movement of Merlin’s hips with a roll of his own. “We can make it even nicer.”

“Mmmm, let’s,” Merlin whispers. Gwaine can feel his breath warm on his skin, see the fine lines in his lush lips. Merlin’s eyes close and he tilts his head, an open invitation. They both move in simultaneously to close the gap and their lips brush together gently at first, then more urgently. Merlin’s mouth is wet, slick pleasure against his, plush and melting. He deepens the kiss with an angle to his head and Merlin’s hungry response is like a spark in a dry forest, setting Gwaine’s need aflame in fresh bolts of desire. His hands come up to cup Merlin’s head, thread his fingers through the dark strands. It’s like kissing the moon or the stars, something bright and intangible and free that can’t be captured with ordinary words. His whole body thrums with it, every part of him focuses on Merlin’s soft, pliant lips and surprisingly wicked tongue; a forceful stab of longing arcs through him, right to his cock.

“Merlin, god…” Gwaine breaks for air, then claims Merlin’s mouth again, wet and sloppy this time, aching for it. Merlin’s hands cradle his neck, thumbs sweeping against his neck and jaw. Gwaine shivers at the feel of it, the thought that _Merlin’s hands_ are on him.

“Merlin,” Gwaine gasps. He wants to go on, desperately, and it seems that Merlin does too, but there’s just a small vein of doubt still there. He needs to make sure Merlin wants _him_ and not just some random person who happened to be available when Merlin was feeling down. Normally he wouldn’t care, he’d take whatever’s offered, but this is Merlin; it’s different. It needs to be more than that. Gwaine’s poor heart can’t take anything less.

“Are you sure this is okay?” He searches Merlin’s face, his glazed eyes and slack cheeks. “Have you ever done this before? I mean, with a man?” At Merlin’s furrowed brow, he adds. “No, strike that, you don’t have to tell me. It’s okay, either way. I just want you to be comfortable.” Merlin’s hair is like silk under his fingers.

“I’m fine,” Merlin says with a smile, stroking Gwaine’s hair. He noses into Gwaine’s collarbone and licks a stripe up his neck, nuzzles below his ear. “It’s fine.” He holds Gwaine’s face in both hands and looks him in the eye. “It’s all right. I want to, Gwaine.” He buries a hand in Gwaine’s hair and cards it through his fingers. “Always wanted to touch you like this.”

Gwaine grins, pleased. “Really?” Merlin nods, his eyes closing as he nibbles Gwaine’s earlobe. Why does that make a little jig dance in his heart? Whatever Merlin’s past experience, Gwaine’s going to make sure he’ll remember this. Gwaine kisses him again, fervently.“Let me take care of you, Merlin. I want to.” He slips a hand under Merlin’s tunic, the skin warm and inviting; his belly taut as the skin of a drum. Merlin curls into Gwaine’s touch, grins his assent.

Gwaine manhandles him up onto the pile of carpets, lifts the tunic up and over Merlin’s head, exposing Merlin’s naked chest, pale as the moon and scattered faintly with dark hair. He’s seen it before, of course, but never with quite the same eye, never anticipating his mouth and hands all over it. “You’re lovely, Merlin, really.” He spreads a broad palm over Merlin’s stomach, following the little dip and swell, the faint line of hair that leads downward, before gliding back up to circle his nipples. They harden into nubs under his touch and Merlin squirms, his eyes darkening.

“Do you like that?” Gwaine asks. Merlin nods with a vague murmur of assent that morphs into a groan as Gwaine licks each of Merlin’s nipples in turn, laving the tips until they’re taut and perky. With his tongue and lips, he traces the faint pattern of hair as it flows downward, mapping Merlin’s chest, discovering the taste of his skin, warm and faintly salty. His arms stretched up over his head, Merlin writhes slightly under his touch; an elegant line of long lean torso.

Such a boy, Gwaine thinks, as he takes hold of Merlin’s waist, his hand easily spreading over half of it, the ribs prominent. It only makes him feel more affectionate, tapping into a wellspring of protective impulse that Gwaine barely knew he had. There’s an intriguing layer of steely determination underneath Merlin’s cheeky demeanour that piques Gwaine’s curiosity.

“Merlin,” he murmurs breathily, kissing him again as he folds Merlin’s thin frame in his arms, the carpeting musty under their heads. He can hear Merlin’s ragged breath in his ear; feel his hard length rubbing into his thigh. “I’m going to take your trousers off now, okay?”

“Yeah, good…want to feel you now,” Merlin sounds desperate and he doesn’t wait for Gwaine but starts pulling his trousers down his slim hips himself. Gwaine tries to help but his hands just get in the way and Merlin flaps them away. Merlin kicks off his trousers, leaving him entirely naked. Gwaine’s mouth goes dry as he takes in the sight of Merlin’s stiff cock, dark and thrilling against his milk white belly.

Merlin looks at him expectantly and tugs at Gwaine’s top, his hands groping for the bare flesh underneath. “You too.”

“Oh yeah,” Gwaine laughs because he’d forgotten he was fully clothed, so distracted was he by Merlin’s nakedness. He quickly divests himself of his clothes, Merlin yanking impatiently on various items of clothing as they go. When he’s finally free of everything, naked, the room seems chilly. He clutches at Merlin’s warm body, wraps around him, all that smooth heated skin sliding against his, making sparks of fresh want dance in his groin. He claims Merlin’s mouth again, bites at that luscious pout, and thrusts his tongue deep inside. It tastes of apples. He melts into the pleasure of it all, the voice inside him gasping, _Merlin_.

He’s muttering words into Merlin’s mouth, he doesn’t even know what he’s saying; the sound is more important than the actual meaning, he just _wants_. Merlin’s hips stutter against his and their cocks rub together, little bolts of sensation flickering where the tender skin drags together. The sight makes him weak-kneed, his mouth water with anticipation.

He presses a line of kisses down Merlin’s neck, explores his collarbone with his lips, tongue dragging down that never-ending torso. As he goes lower and lower, he can feel the tension rising in Merlin’s body, his breath coming more rapidly, fingers clutching Gwaine’s shoulders tightly.

“God, do it, Gwaine, come on, please.” Merlin’s voice is raspy, desperate, and he pushes a little on Gwaine’s shoulders – demanding sod – but apparently Gwaine likes it because his cock swells even more, even though he didn’t think he could get any harder. Despite Merlin’s pleas – which make Gwaine think Merlin’s not nearly as innocent as he had imagined - he takes a moment to savour Merlin’s intimate scent, hay and musk, nosing his balls and licking at the soft skin of his inner thigh. The flesh fills his palms when his hands grasp Merlin’s arse.

Merlin nudges his hips forward into Gwaine’s face. “Gwaine,” he says, low and imploring. Gwaine laughs softly before putting Merlin out of his misery and finally licking a flattened tongue up his cock. It’s like sun-warmed silk, satisfyingly hard yet velvet to the touch, reminding him that Merlin’s no boy after all. He can’t help it, he moans a little, it’s so good, and Merlin whimpers, raking his fingers across Gwaine’s back. Gwaine uses all his skill to suck a trail of kisses up to the head, to make his lips and tongue and teeth dance, bringing Merlin right up to the edge so his thighs tremble and his whole body writhes.

“Oh god.” Merlin gasps and flings an arm over his face.

It’s overwhelming, seeing Merlin like this, swept away with pleasure at his hands. Shuddering emotion flares in his chest; it only makes him want to give Merlin more. He swallows down Merlin’s cock, plunging the whole length down his throat so it’s full, hot and thick in his mouth, a slick glide of skin along his tongue. Crying out, Merlin twists a hand in Gwaine’s hair and his hips buck wildly so his cock hits the back of Gwaine’s throat. He almost gags, but the need to make this good for Merlin reinforces his control.

When he takes a peek at Merlin, he’s struck anew by his beauty; his head is thrown back, exposing his neck stretched long and lovely, eyelashes a dark sweep against his prominent cheekbones. Flushed pink is his face and a faint glisten of sweat spreads across his cheeks. Gwaine wants nothing more than to sit back and watch the pleasure take him, but it’s impossible to do more than sneak sidelong glances as his lips and tongue work Merlin mercilessly towards a climax that Gwaine hopes will permanently wipe out all Merlin’s pining thoughts of Arthur.

Merlin’s body tenses up, the pressure building and it has to be close now. Gwaine holds down his hips firmly as Merlin quivers and thrusts erratically, letting go small helpless bleats. He comes right in Gwaine’s mouth. Gwaine happily takes it all, trying his best to watch Merlin from the corner of his eye, lips wrapped around his cock until Merlin stills. He slowly lets it fall from his lips, enjoying the feel of the subtly softening flesh as much as the rock-hard erection. Merlin’s totally wrecked, his limbs heavy and languid, whimpering happily in the afterglow as Gwaine presses kisses to his stomach. Looking at Merlin’s blissed-out face, Gwaine couldn’t be more pleased with himself. He pulls down the corners of his mouth lest they turn into a ridiculous unrestrained smile.

He’d bet a month’s worth of ale that Merlin’s precious prince never did _this_ for him. If this doesn’t get him over his silly funk, nothing will.

Merlin’s arm still hides most of his face, but Gwaine can see the pink of his tongue just peeking out of his parted lips. His body’s an elegant arc of wiry muscle, still trembling thighs sprawled out over the pile of carpeting. Merlin wipes his hand over his face, and finally looks at Gwaine with limpid, lazy eyes. “Gwaine,” he says softly in a ragged voice. “That was…”

“Spectacular?” Gwaine can’t help himself. He smoothes his hands up Merlin’s sides, taking note of the ridges of bone, valleys of pale, silky skin, and hard spans of muscle.

“I see you’re not one for humility,” Merlin says, turning into Gwaine’s touch like a cat and practically purring with contentment.

“Not in this department.” Gwaine kisses him gently, sealing their lips together like a promise, delving his tongue in the deep recesses of Merlin’s mouth before dropping a kiss on the edge of his lips.

Merlin opens his eyes again and sighs deeply, a hand on Gwaine’s hip. “Or anywhere.”

Gwaine grins. “True.” He pulls Merlin closer and sweeps a hand over the soft curve of his buttocks, the skin warm and giving as he forms lazy circles with his fingertips. So slim and boyish, everything all teasingly taut. Gwaine lets his imagination roam for a moment as his fingers dip into the cleft. Now’s not the time, but maybe someday. Giddy hope bubbles up his chest. “Feeling better, love?” He draws a finger down Merlin’s cheek, under his jaw, and presses a thumb to Merlin’s lower lip.

Merlin smiles against the thumb and wraps a hand around Gwaine’s wrist, holding it in place. “Yeah. I’m feeling much better.” With a saucy look, he sucks the thumb into his mouth and swirls his tongue around the tip. The sight goes right to Gwaine’s neglected cock, and it swells against Merlin’s thigh. Merlin pulls the thumb further into his mouth, increasing the suction, saliva all over everything.

“You’re something special, Merlin,” Gwaine says, staring.

The thumb slips from Merlin’s mouth with a wet slurping sound. “Am I?” Merlin’s eyes are merry, dancing light over Gwaine’s face and body, and his hands travel searchingly down Gwaine’s spine, over his backside, the curved muscle at the back of his thigh.

“Yes, you idiot. Don’t be smug. It’s not becoming in a servant.” Gwaine laughs and crushes Merlin in a hug. He’s got to laugh otherwise total panic will set in. He’s in grave danger of falling head over heels.

“You’re one to talk, Sir ’ I’m spectacular’.” Merlin snickers. He looks thoughtful for a moment, meeting Gwaine’s gaze, then sweeps an errant lock of hair back from Gwaine’s face. “Thank you,” he says quietly as he leans in to give Gwaine a slow, deep kiss that seems to go on for several minutes until they part, breathless and dazed. Merlin’s eyes are shining, almost indigo, his lips rosy and swollen, and Gwaine has to swallow, his throat suddenly thick with emotion.

“You’re welcome,” he manages to say. “I…” He doesn’t know what he wants to say. This has all become more than he’d bargained for, intense emotions he hadn’t anticipated. He’s both appalled and delighted. He prefers to keep his lovers at a distance so it’s easier to move on when the time comes. Love is messy and best avoided if you want to keep your options open. But now it seems he’s here to stay at Camelot, and here’s Merlin, lovely, ridiculous, hapless Merlin, looking at him with amazing, adoring eyes, acting like Gwaine sucking his cock is even better than roast pheasant, and maybe, just maybe, promising more.

“Your sad faces were distracting me, Merlin, that’s all.” He cringes when his voice comes out all rough and he clears his throat. “I’m pretty sure I lost to Leon because of you – yet again. You put me off my game with your silly moping. Something clearly had to be done.”

Merlin raises an eyebrow. “Oh really? That’s why you brought me in here? Because you lost your drinking contest?”

“Er, yeah. That’s right. Uh-huh.”

“I see. So you weren’t thinking about this earlier?”

“No, no plans for this at all.” Gwaine tries to look serious; he didn’t actually plan this, although the thought had certainly crossed his mind as a general idea. But a corner of his mouth lifts of its own accord, a smile starting to sneak onto his face.

Merlin points at him. “You’re smiling. Admit it, you fancied me.”

Gwaine feels a flush spread up his neck and the smile breaks out into full force. “Well, maybe. To be fair, I’m not sure I realized how much until today.” He can’t help glancing down at Merlin’s cock. When he looks back up, they both burst out laughing. “No, really, it’s not just that,” he says when their laughter subsides. “I’ve always liked you, Merlin. I just wasn’t sure about…” he hesitates to say bring it up again when things have gone so well. “Well, um,” he exhales, “Arthur.”

“Yeah.” Merlin looks down for a moment and Gwaine can see that twinge of sadness again. Damn it, why did he bring up Arthur? “I can’t really explain about Arthur. It’s complicated,” he says as he slides a hand up Gwaine’s side. “But you don’t have to worry about that; there’s nothing like this.” He gestures between them and Gwaine ignores the wistful note to his words. “It’s got nothing to do with you and me. With _us_.” He leans in as if telling a secret. “Because I fancy you too,” he whispers. “A lot,” he says into Gwaine’s ear, following it up with a lick to his jaw.

Gwaine grabs his wrist and pulls him close, heart thudding. “That makes me very happy, Merlin.” He smoothes back Merlin’s hair tenderly. There’s something hard melting in his chest and it feels like he might dissolve into an undignified puddle if Merlin keeps looking at him like that. “So no more silly moping, right? It’s all going to be fine. You’ve got me now.” He inhales sharply, realising with a shock how true it is.

“Arthur who? I don’t know any Arthurs.”

Gwaine fondly ruffles his hair and cups his jaw. “Merlin,” he says softly. “I’m not kidding.”

“I know.” Merlin looks away, but then he slowly places a kiss on Gwaine’s lips, like a benediction. “I’m not kidding either.” He eyes Gwaine’s cock, still rigid, then looks up guiltily from under his lashes. “I’m afraid I really do have to get back now. It’s been awhile.”

“I know. I’ll be fine.” It wasn’t about him right now anyway; this was for Merlin. The way he sees it, Merlin’s smiling and _kissing_ him, so his mission has been accomplished.

“Tell you what.” Merlin draws a teasing finger down Gwaine’s erection. “I’ll make it up to you later. Give you something to look forward to while you’re being forced to down all those drinks with Leon.” He grins, a sparkle in his eye.

“It’s a deal.” Gwaine glances a bit sadly at his still-excited state before pulling his clothes on, his usual trick of imagining Gaius naked already having the desired effect.

 

An hour or so later, Gwaine catches Merlin’s eye from across the banquet hall. That is, after he brings his eyes into focus, which is a challenge after his victory over Leon. He’s feeling pretty proud of himself, what with besting Leon and bringing Merlin out of his bad mood. He can see Merlin is drooping – it’s been a long night. But he hasn’t frowned since they returned to the banquet and whenever Gwaine looks over at him, he sends him a dazzling smile that makes Gwaine momentarily lose his bearings.

And right now, Merlin is staring at him and doing something utterly obscene with his lips and tongue and a grape that’s making Gwaine’s trousers ridiculously tight and isn’t there a law against doing that in public? Merlin smirks like the evil tempter that he is and jerks his thumb towards the door. Then he mouths something mysterious, with more confounding gestures, but the meaning is clear. Gwaine wastes no time in making a few excuses and jumping up from the table. He practically runs to the door, and this time he doesn’t even hear the outraged shrieks of the ladies whose feet he crushes on the way.

He may have finally won his match with Leon, but he’s definitely lost his heart completely.


End file.
